


Phantom

by RodeRozen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Golden Trio, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parseltongue, Romance, Slytherin Harry Potter, Songfic, inspired by Phantom of the Opera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RodeRozen/pseuds/RodeRozen
Summary: At first sight, Harry Potter is like any other of the first years waiting to be sorted.He loves quidditch and treacle tart.He has a loving family.He is going to be a Gryffindor.At second glance, Harry Potter is unlike any of the other first years who have just been sorted.He is sorted into Slytherin.He hates his new dormmates.He dreams about red eyes and tormented hisses at night.





	Phantom

_In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came_

Harry threw himself down on the green sheets, resisting the urge to cry. He didn’t want to be in stinkin’ Slytherin! He wanted to be in Gryffindor!

But the hat had only laughed at him. Stupid thing. Harry wished he could set it on fire.

And his Mum, and his Dad…they’d said they would be proud of him no matter where he got sorted, yes, but Slytherin? And what about Uncle Sirius? His family had been in Slytherin, and he hated them!

Uncle Remus wouldn’t mind. Harry knew that. Still, a sob escaped him.

“Oi, Potter! Stop being a cry-baby and go to sleep!” Malfoy shouted. Goyle and Crabbe, his two guards, guffawed.

Tossing and turning, the clock had struck twelve before Harry fell asleep.

Behind closed eyelids, red was all he could see. Deep, blood red, framed by long lashes that shimmered in and out of view.

_*_ _Hurts…_ _*_

_*_ _What hurts?_ _*_ Harry tried to say, but the only thing he heard were hisses. Long, sibilant hisses. Now that he tried to remember the words said to him, he found he could only recall tormented hissing.

_*_ _Hurts…_ _*_

_Who are you_ , Harry thought.

_*_ _HURTS!_ _*_ The shout startled him. He jolted upright in bed, heart racing. There was no one in the room except his dormmates, and they were all sleeping.

_Hurts…_ the tormented voice kept Harry awake until daybreak, his mind whirring with questions.

_That voice which calls to me_

It was Hallowe’en. Harry had circles under his eyes. Since he’d returned for his second year at Hogwarts, the dreams had gotten worse. He still hadn’t made any friends either, but his roommates had learned to leave him alone lest they get hexed; Uncle Remus had taught him some very creative ones when he heard the other boys were harassing him.

_*It hurts…help…me…*_ Harry stopped walking, causing the student behind him to bump into his back. He paid the boy no mind. Ever since that first night, the voice had only said the same word, but between that and the red eyes, he wasn’t getting much sleep. This was the first time it said more than that single word, and during the day no less.

It scared him. He wasn’t dreaming, but he pinched himself to make sure nonetheless. Nope, definitely not dreaming.

So why was he hearing dream-voices? Shuddering, he continued walking toward the Great Hall, but his heart wasn’t in it.

_And speaks my name_

Harry was in a foul mood as he came back from the nurse’s office. His head of house, Snape, had sent him there to be checked out after he forgot the silencing spell the first night back and woke up the whole dorm.

Now, on the second night of his third year at Hogwarts, Harry was a bit afraid to go to sleep. He checked the silencing spell a third time, then decided there was nothing for it and closed his eyes.

And as always, he dreamed of red eyes and pained hisses. Though, at the end of the dream, something was…different. He couldn’t put his finger on it, exactly, but..

* _Find me. Help…me…*_ Harry woke up in a cold sweat. Find you…I will, he vowed. _I’ll find you_.

_And do I dream again, for now I find_

_I’ll find you_. The thought ran through Harry’s mind as he hissed *open!* at the sink. It opened.

_I’ll find you_. Harry slid down the hole, landing on a strangely well-kept floor. According to his research, he must be in Hogwarts’s sewer system.

He hadn’t gone home for Christmas or Easter a single time since that night. His family was worried, he knew. They were considering pulling him out of school, but if only he could find the voice.

It consumed him. He had to find it. And now, in his fifth year, he was close. So close.

_I’ll find you_.

He walked, opening the doors he met with a single, hissed word.

Parseltongue, it was called. He was a Parselmouth. It was a genetic ability, given to him from his mother’s side of the family, as he’d discovered when he’d sneaked off to Gringotts one summer.

Normally, the ability should be too diluted for him to speak one word of the snake language. And he hadn’t been able to, not until he went to Hogwarts.

Somehow, the voice had activated the dormant gene. Harry wanted answers.

_I’ll find you._

He found himself before a pair of doors. Somehow, these were different. And he knew, without knowing why, that behind these doors, he would find something. The voice. Answers.

_*Open.*_

_The phantom of the snakes is there, inside my mind_

The first thing Harry saw were red eyes. Immediately, he was drawn in, sucked into those pools of blood.

He felt himself falling, tumbling down.

When it was over, he sat in front of the Hogwarts lake, knees drawn up to his chest as if he’d been there awhile and had made himself comfortable.

On the other side of the lake, he could make out the red eyes of whoever had been in the chamber. They stared into each other’s eyes.

\---

_Sing once again with me_

Green. Clear as emerald, yet trouble as murky water. Tom found himself drowning in those liquid eyes.

He sensed a snake slithering up next to him. It started hissing, the sound a thousand times louder than what it was supposed to be.

_Our strange duet_

On the opposite side of the lake, next to the dark-skinned boy with the messy black hair, a phoenix burst into flame. It started trilling, the sound of its song bordering on painful.

Snake and phoenix sung their duet. Tom tried to drown in the eyes of the boy on the other side.

_My power over you grows stronger yet_

Tom wasn’t sure if he meant to. But as soon as he thought of it, he felt himself delve into the boy’s mind.

“Potter, Harry!” Was that…Minerva McGonagall? She had aged since they were students together, though why he was surprised, Tom didn’t know.

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat bellowed.

Memories of sleepless nights flashed before his eyes. The boy- no, Harry’s – roommates taunting him, his family fretting over him. And through it all, one constant.

_I’ll find you._

And find him, Harry had.

_And though you turn from me, to glance behind_

Tom could feel the moment Harry turned his head away.

_The phantom of the snakes is there, inside your mind_

Tom didn’t have to struggle to remain in Harry’s mind, instead, it felt more natural, like he was meant to be there. He could feel Harry’s fear, uncertainty.

With an effort far greater than was normal, he drew back.

\---

_Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear_

Harry felt dizzy as he landed on his butt in the middle of the legendary Chamber of Secrets.

What had just happened? Harry looked at the other…person, and immediately stumbled back.

This wasn’t a boy, as he had thought. This was a monster.

But as soon as he thought it, he felt guilty. People said that about Uncle Remus as well.

While the boy, for it was a boy, certainly had a monstrous face, that didn’t mean he was a monster.

Harry took in the red eyes with slitted pupils, the slits for nostrils, the lack of a nose, the bald head with greenish blue veins running through it.

He got back up, holding out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Harry. What’s your name?”

The boy looked rather dazed for a moment, before he smiled, revealing pointed teeth…and was that a forked tongue?

Harry wiggled his hand a little. The boy snapped out of it, carefully grasping the offered hand in his own. Releasing the slightly awkward handshake – surely fingers that long couldn’t be natural – the boy spoke.

“You may call me Tom. I’m very pleased to meet you, Harry.” There was a lilt of something in his voice, a hint of the charming baritone it must have once been. Now, it sounded like a snake speaking English; a slightly sibilant, abnormally high voice.

“So am I,” Harry said, lips turning upward in a small smile.

_I am the mask you wear_

“Tell me about yourself,” Tom requested.

Harry hesitated. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Tom said without hesitating. Waving a strange-looking wand, he conjured up a couch. The thing looked a bit out of place in the damp chamber.

Harry sat down. Tom sat next to him, almost close enough to touch.

“I’m in Slytherin, and I hate it. My dormmates are absolutely awful, but they leave me alone, because I know a lot of nasty hexes. It’s always cold and damp in the common room, but I like the sun.” What else could he say? “My family was in Gryffindor. They were disappointed when I was sorted. They didn’t show it, but I knew. Except Uncle Remus.” Harry smiled at the thought of his favourite uncle.

“And you friends?” Tom asked.

“I don’t have any. No one wants to be friends with a Slytherin, and I don’t really like anyone in my own house.”

“Oh.” Tom pondered this for a moment. “I never had any friends either.”

“How old are you?” Harry asked.

Tom turned his head away.

\--- 

_It’s me they hear_

“I don’t know, Harry.” Tom’s voice was very soft. He closed his eyes. “I’ve been in here for a very long time.”

He started when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Compared to his own skin, cool to the touch, it was almost unbearably warm.

“Tell me,” Harry softly requested.

Tom laid his own hand atop Harry’s, reveling in the warmth.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Harry nodded, accepting that.

“The noise…that’s you, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so, yes. Magical experiments tend to explode every so often.”

“Magical experiments?” Harry asked, incredulous.

Tom just shrugged.

“It’s rather boring down here.”

“I’ll visit you,” Harry promised.

Tom could feel his face lighting up.

“I’d like that very much.”

\---

_Your spirit and my voice, in one combined_

“- has anyone heard it?”

Frowning, Harry ducked behind a statue to listen. He recognized the two Gryffindors from his classes – they were seventh-years, just like him. The red-haired boy was a Weasley, and the girl…Granger, Hermione Granger. She was top of their year, and boasted about it to anyone who would listen.

“Not since fifth year, as you well know, Ronald. Honestly, you’re like an old lady, the way you gossip!”

Harry’s eyebrows raised in understanding. Shortly after their first meeting, he’d helped Tom install a silencing charm around the room he used for his magical experiments. He couldn’t do it on his own, as all charms appropriate for use in an experimental room required two people to be set up, something to do with anchoring of the magical core. He’d never really researched the particulars.

Still, he felt himself bristle. Tom was not an ‘it’!

“Still, it’s strange, isn’t it? All those years, the thing makes so much noise, and now it’s suddenly silent! I’m just saying, that’s strange behavior for a poltergeist.”

A _poltergeist_? Harry could feel Tom’s anger at the words mixing with his own, and he hurried out of that corridor before something exploded.

Their mental link had become very strong, but Tom wouldn’t say a word about what it was or how it came to be. Eventually, Harry had given up at trying to pry the information out of him, and Tom hadn’t volunteered anything he hadn’t said that first time.

Still, they’d become good friends, and to Harry, it felt like a gaping hole in his chest had finally been filled.

_The phantom of the snakes is there, inside my mind_

Hissing _*open*_ to the doors, Harry entered the Chamber. He took the second door to the right, which led to Tom’s chambers – they used to be Salazar Slytherin’s.

Walking into the living room, he was surprised at the alarm he felt when he didn’t see him; it wasn’t that unusual for him to be somewhere else.

“Tom?” Harry called out. No response came.

With absolutely no regard for privacy, Harry checked the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and every other nook and cranny he could think of, but no Tom.

He must be in the lab, which was what they had dubbed the warded room used for experiments. Harry quickly made his way over to the reinforced door.

“Tom?!” he shouted, hitting the wood. “For the love of Merlin, answer me!”

Damnit, he’d have to break down the door. Taking a deep breath, Harry extended his hands, feeling his magic tingling around him. He focused it into the palms of his hands, before stepping back. With his hands still extended, palms forward, he ran to the door at full speed, not stopping when he reached it.

Faced with the force of his magic, the door gave way. Harry took a moment to gather his magic back around him.

Sure enough, Tom sat on the ground in the middle of the room, staring unseeingly at the wall.

“Tom? Why didn’t you open the door?” Harry asked, warily walking closer. He’d found out the hard way that Tom’s magic had the tendency to lash out if he was upset. Tom had apologized profusely after that particular incident.

Before coming closer, Harry extended his own magic, tentatively touching it to Tom’s. When Tom’s magic didn’t respond at all, Harry knew something was seriously wrong.

Throwing caution out the window, he walked forward, kneeling in front of Tom and taking his hands, gently caressing them.

“I need you to focus on my voice. Can you hear me?”

A soft, barely perceptible twitch of the hands Harry held in his.

“You can hear me. Try to take deep breaths, like this. In…out. In…out.” Deliberately breathing very slowly, Harry kept talking. “You’re doing great, Tom. Can you squeeze my hands again?”

Another twitch, slightly bigger this time.

“Okay. We’re going to work through this. Follow my breathing, if you can.” Harry breathed loudly for a minute or so.

“That’s very good. Do you hear my voice? I’m still here, I’m not going anywhere. Can you tell me what’s happening?”

Tom’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. Harry stroked his hands.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’ll get there.”

He saw Tom move forward slightly, as if seeking contact. Scooting closer, Harry embraced him, rubbing slow circles up and down his back.

“Easy now, I’m here,” Harry whispered.

Suddenly, Tom seemed to snap out of it, his alert eyes meeting Harry’s gaze.

“How long have you been sitting here?” Harry softly asked.

“I-I don’t know. I just-” Tom’s voice trembled.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. I’m here if you want to talk.”

Tom drew back, looking at Harry warily.

“I don’t want your pity.”

Harry bristled. “Good, because you’re not getting it. I-”

He stopped talking. _I love you_ , he’d been going to say. Clearing his throat, he lamely finished the sentence.

“I was just worried.”

“I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

“It’s fine. I probably deserved it.”

Tom’s eyes widened.

“Of course not! You wanted to help. I should not have thrown that in your face.”

Harry shrugged, and this time Tom hugged him.

“I was thinking about what we are going to do when you graduate,” Tom confessed, hiding his face in Harry’s neck.

“Oh,” Harry breathed. He raised his head, looking at Tom.

Gathering his courage, he spoke.

\---

_My spirit and your voice, in one combined_

“I was actually hoping you’d come with me. That is, if you’re not bound to this chamber or anything.”

Tom felt his heart freeze. He had not told Harry about the curse, could not bring himself to. But Myrtle had never said anything about him not being allowed to leave…

“You want me with you?” he incredulously asked. “Really?” His gaze drifted down to his hands. Surely no one could want him, not like this.

“Of course I do,” said Harry, his eyes impossibly soft.

Acting on impulse, Tom hugged Harry, drawing him close.

“I’ll come with you,” he whispered, trying not to think of all the ways this could go wrong.

_The phantom of the snakes is there, inside your mind_

Tom barely restrained himself from fleeing into Harry’s mind as they stood before the door to the Great Hall. It felt surreal, being out of that damp chamber, and he realized how much he’d missed the fresh air. Unfortunately, he also seemed to have developed a fear for the masses that had once adored him.

Minerva would recognize him. One way or another, this was going to end badly.

But then Harry beamed up at him, sending comfort through their link, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

\---

_He’s there, the phantom of the snakes_

Pretty much no one looked up as the door opened. The meal was barely getting started, so it was quite normal for stragglers to enter late.

The few who had looked, however, gasped in horror, which caused the ones next to them to look as well.

And so it spread, like a ripple through the Great Hall.

_Beware the phantom of the snakes_

“A monster!” people whispered. “It’s a monster!”

“It’s the phantom!” others shouted.

“Always knew Potter was a bit touched in the head,” a boy muttered to the girl sitting next to him.

Up at the High Table, Minerva McGonagall got up, looking as if she’d seen a ghost, though not many noticed that.

“SILENCE!” the Headmaster bellowed. “If you two gentlemen would kindly make your way to my office?”

\---

_I_ _n all your fantasies, you always knew_

Tom was sweating as they went up to the Headmaster’s office. He clutched Harry’s hand like a lifeline. Why had he done this?

As they stood before the gargoyle, Harry turned to him.

“I just wanted to say that, whatever happens, whatever the truth is, it won’t change a thing. I-”

But he was cut off as Dumbledore – Tom still couldn’t get used to the fact that he was Headmaster now, despite Harry telling him months ago – appeared.

“Ice mice,” he said to the gargoyle.

Without a word, Tom stepped onto the first step, pulling Harry along with him.

Once up, Harry transfigured the single chair in front of the desk into a bench suited for two people, provided they weren’t too fat. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, but whether out of indignation or surprise at the skill Harry was showing, Tom didn’t know.

Harry pulled Tom down on the bench next to him, wrapping his arm around his lower back in a gesture he wasn’t sure how to interpret.

_That man and mystery_

“Mr. Riddle. According to the official records, you have been dead for fifty-five years.”

“I would presume so, yes,” Tom agreed, refusing to answer unspoken questions.

“Yet you enter the Great Hall today, with Mr. Potter at your side. I would very much like to hear what has happened.”

Reluctantly, Tom complied.

“I was in the middle of a very strong ritual, when-”

“Tom. Don’t leave out any details.”

“In my fourth year, I found out how to make a Horcrux. I planned to murder my father and use his death to create one. I didn’t know when I’d get the chance to sneak out, so I always kept the necessary ingredients for the ritual on me.”

“I discovered the Chamber of Secrets in my fifth year. In the chamber, Slytherin’s monster resides.”

Tom closed his eyes, not wanting to see Harry’s reaction as he recounted the story.

He paused.

“The monster is a basilisk. She whined that she was bored down there, that she wanted out. I didn’t mean for her to hurt anyone.”

Taking a deep breath, he continued.

“I let her out during Easter break of my sixth year. I thought no one would be in the bathroom where the entrance is. I was wrong. There was a student.”

“Moaning Myrtle,” breathed Harry next to him.

Stiff as a statue, Tom answered.

“Yes. Myrtle Warren was killed by the basilisk. Seeing an opportunity, I sent the basilisk back and started the ritual to create a Horcrux. It only needed one final chant when Myrtle’s ghost entered the Chamber. She used the energy from the ritual to curse me.”

Dumbledore’s eyes had lost their usual twinkle, and there was something steely in them.

“What did she say? I need to know exactly how she said it.”

Tom squeezed his eyes shut.

“For the rest of eternity, your face will reveal your nature to all. Unless…unless you can find someone pure and good to accept you for who you are. Then you may move on with them,” he parroted the words said to him so long ago.

“The wording is disturbingly vague, but it is a true curse nonetheless,” Dumbledore mused. “What did you do then?”

“I stayed in the Chamber. Salazar Slytherin had his personal chambers there, along with a tunnel to the kitchens. I disillusioned myself to get food.”

“Are you aware of the Ghost Laws, Tom?” Dumbledore suddenly asked.

Tom shook his head, stubbornly refusing to look at Harry despite the pleading he could feel over their mental link.

“This is a case of Ghostly Justice. Simply speaking, Myrtle’s ghost has decided on your punishment for your transgression, and it would be very unwise for any living being to interfere. Thus, no legal action can be taken, and it would be quite simple for you to rejoin society.” Dumbledore’s eyes had resumed their twinkling.

“I’ll- I’ll think about it, Sir.”

“See that you do. You may return to your dorm, but might I request that you try not to cause a panic in the hallways.”

“That won’t be a problem, Sir,” Harry said, grabbing something out of his bag and throwing it over the two of them. When Tom saw the shimmer of the fabric, he knew what it was. An invisibility cloak.

\---

_Were both in you_

Tom was silent on the walk back to Harry’s dorm. Harry snuck him another worried glance, mind still whirring with the information he’d received.

When they were in front of the portrait hole, Harry threw of the invisibility cloak, giving the password and making sure to dawdle enough that Tom would be able to enter.

A few Slytherins got up as if to ask him something, but an icy glared combined with his hand twitching toward his wand cowed them quickly enough, and they retreated.

Harry walked up toward his dorm. He’d seen Nott and Zabini in the common room snogging, and Crabbe and Goyle had been doing homework.

That left Malfoy, who would most likely be in the dorm.

Harry entered, and sure enough, the git was laying on his bed with the curtains drawn. When Malfoy moaned lowly, Harry smirked vindictively.

He grabbed his wand, and in one smooth motion, severed the curtains, revealing Malfoy with his hand down his pants.

“Eek!” he squealed, snatching his hand away and not-so-sneakily wiping it on the sheets.

“Get out, Malfoy,” Harry ordered, voice cold as ice and hard as steel.

“You don’t get to boss me around,” blustered Malfoy, but he was scared.

Harry fired a Stinging hex at his arse.

“I said get out!” He raised his wand, but Malfoy was gone already.

Locking the door with every spell he knew of, then Vanishing the doorknob and Silencing the room for good measure, Harry turned to Tom, but not before aiming a Scourgify at Malfoy’s bed.

“Tom,” Harry said, trying to convey a thousand feelings in one word.

“Oh, Harry. Do you hate me now?” Tom uncertainly asked.

In one big stride, Harry had hit him in the chest.

“How dare you even suggest that! I could never hate you.”

Tom’s eyes were wide.

“Do you even know what a Horcrux is?”

“Naturally, or I would have asked. Uncle Sirius taught me about them, so I wouldn’t fall prey to one. His family still has all the old, Dark knowledge.”

“Then you must hate me,” Tom said, resignation clear in his voice. He lowered his eyes.

“I don’t hate you, you stupid arse!” Harry shouted, resisting the urge to strangle Tom. “Why do you keep asking?!”

Tom grasped him by the shoulders, seemingly struggling with something.

\---

_And in this labyrinth, where night is blind_

“Because I love you,” Tom whispered, his voice sounding painfully hoarse even to his own ears. “Because I love you, and I’ve never loved anyone before, and I couldn’t bear it if you hated me. Please, Harry.” He didn’t know what he was begging for, exactly. Then warm hands caressed his face, and his chin was tilted up. He met Harry’s soft eyes, wishing the floor would swallow him up.

“Oh, Tom. You made a mistake, and you paid for it a thousand times over. I don’t hate you. How could I, when I love you?”

And then Harry was kissing him, his soft, warm lips on his cold ones, and he didn’t draw back but he continued kissing him, and Tom did the only sensible thing he could do and he kissed Harry back.

Harry drew back though, trailing a finger across Tom’s cheek in wonder. Tom realized he’d been crying. The thought startled him. It had been at least sixty years since he’d cried.

“I love you,” Harry whispered, kissing away each and every tear, and Tom wrapped his arms around him.

He felt…alive, and loved, and amazing.

But something was wrong.

“Something’s wrong,” he abruptly said, and Harry looked up.

“What is?”

“I haven’t changed back. I’ve researched the curse, and I thought I’d be changed back when I found love.”

Seeing Harry’s betrayed look, he hurried to add:

“I didn’t manipulate you! I swear this is real. I didn’t even think about it, I’d forgotten!”

“I know. I know, but for a moment I thought…”

“No,” Tom said. “I would never betray you like that.”

Harry smiled.

“Then I think we should go see Myrtle. She’s still in the bathroom. I talk to her often, when I come down to see you.”

Tom rolled his eyes. Oh, the irony.

_The phantom of the snakes is here, inside your mind_

“I know why you’re here,” Myrtle said, and Tom could feel Harry’s surprise at how composed she was. “But there’s nothing I can do. You told Harry while the curse was still in effect.”

“I did, yes,” Tom admitted.

“Then I can do nothing. You will remain like this.”

“Forever?” Harry softly asked next to him.

“As long as he lives,” Myrtle confirmed. “You are seventeen now, correct?”

“Technically,” Tom said.

“Then you will age from seventeen on. Ghost Law states how it must be.”

“We understand, Myrtle,” Harry said. “Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you,” Tom agreed. “And Myrtle? For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry about what happened.”

In a flash of light, Myrtle was gone.

“I think she moved on,” Harry said, smiling at Tom.

“She must have.” Tom felt a weight fall off his chest. Though he’d always be guilty of the crimes he’d committed, at least Myrtle was no longer stuck in limbo.

\--- 

_And in this labyrinth, where night is blind_

Harry looked around worriedly. The graduation ceremony started in five minutes, and he couldn’t find Tom anywhere.

“Riddle, Tom!” Harry watched from the row of students whose names had yet to be called as Tom appeared from somewhere, striding up to McGonagall, who looked rather faint.

“Congratulations,” she said as she handed over his diploma, face pale.

Tom took it, bowing to the public. People were murmuring.

The only thing that had been published was that due to Ghost Matters, Tom had been missing for fifty-five years, and would be receiving his diploma anyway due to independent study. No one knew precisely what had happened.

Except Harry, and Dumbledore, he guessed.

Harry looked at Tom again, feeling the tingle of the strong glamour he wore. He left the podium, sending a message through their mental link that he’d be down by the lake.

Barely noticing when he received his own diploma, Harry hurried over to the lake as soon as he could, dodging his family and ignoring the worried glance Uncle Remus sent him.

“Hey,” he breathed, stepping into the privacy ward Tom had erected. When Tom leaned in for a kiss, Harry evaded him.

“Not like this, Tom.”

Sighing, Tom removed the glamour. “Better?”

Harry nodded, leaning in for his kiss.

“I still don’t get why you won’t just allow me to wear it all the time,” Tom sighed.

“For one, it’s not healthy for your magical core. And it’s not you, Tom,” Harry murmured, snuggling up to his boyfriend as they sat down on the grass.

“Get off me for a moment, you clingy thing,” Tom laughed, but Harry could sense his nervousness. He stood up and made to put the glamour back on, but Harry stopped him.

“Please don’t.”

“Harry, really. I want to take a picture of- well, I can’t do it like this!”

“Why not?” Harry softly questioned, getting up as well and taking Tom’s hand. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“I don’t,” Tom said.

“I know. Just…please don’t hide from me.”

Tom sighed, waving his wand. In the air, a camera started zooming around.

Then Tom got down on one knee, and Harry nearly fainted.

“You care for me though I don’t care for myself. When you look at me, I feel loved. I promise to love and care for you now and forever, till death do us part. Harry James Potter, will you do me the honour of being my husband?” Tom looked up at him, presenting a simple, silver ring with a stone so black, it seemed to suck the light out of its surroundings. It was gorgeous.

“Yes, I will,” Harry answered, accepting the ring and extending a hand to help Tom up. Their lips met, and Harry had never felt so content.

“Thank you,” Tom whispered between kisses. “I’m glad I didn’t put the glamour up.”

“So am I,” Harry said, tenderly cradling his fiancé’s face. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Tom said, laying a hand over Harry’s where it rested on his cheek.

Just then, someone knocked on the privacy ward.

“Who is it?” Harry asked.

“Your uncle.”

“Which one?”

“The sane one,” Tom said, dispelling the privacy wards. At Uncle Moony’s slight intake of breath, Harry looked over to Tom, and saw that he hadn’t put the glamour up.

Knowing Tom would never forget that, Harry tackled him into a hug, the stone on his ring finger glinting in the sunlight.

“Oof!” Tom exclaimed. “Knock me over, why don’t you!”

Harry turned back around to beam at his uncle.

“This is my fiancé, Tom,” he said, proudly laying a hand on the small of Tom’s back.

“Pleased to meet you,” Uncle Moony said, extending a hand.

Harry pushed Tom forward.

“Likewise,” he said, voice only trembling a bit.

Just then, Harry’s parents arrived, Uncle Padfoot in tow.

“Harry!” his dad exclaimed, rushing over. “Why did you run off?” Then he saw the ring on his son’s finger.

James Potter fainted, and was only saved from hitting the ground by his wife, who shot Harry a glare.

“Uh…Mum, Uncle Padfoot, this is Tom, my fiancé.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Tom said, extending a hand. A slight battle ensued over who got to grasp it. Eventually, Harry’s mum won after hexing Uncle Padfoot.

“It is indeed,” Lily said, casting a critical eye over Tom. “We were going to eat out tonight, in honour of Harry’s diploma, and _apparently_ , his engagement.” She glared at her son. “You’re very welcome to join us. Merlin knows you need fattening up.”

Harry snorted, both at his mum’s no-nonsense tone, and the look on Tom’s face, as if he might run for the hills any second.

“Sure you want to marry into this?” Harry teased.

Tom looked at him.

“Very sure,” he whispered, pulling Harry in for a kiss.

Behind them, Uncle Padfoot fainted.

_The phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind._


End file.
